Are We Still Friends
by Cheelalaucha
Summary: Karofsky takes the first steps to a better life for himself: telling his best friend the truth. Karofsky and Azimio friendship. Based around Karofsky's father's comments about how he's been acting differently lately; he was better once, that's not gone.
1. Red and Blue

**Title: "Are We Still Friends"  
****Rating: T for language.  
****Summary: Karofsky takes the first steps to a better life for himself: telling his best friend the truth. Karofsky and Azimio friendship.  
****Song: "Poker Face" by Lady Gaga.**

**.O.O.**

"_I want to hold 'em like they do in Texas, please_."

The steering wheel was cutting into my forehead, but it was a nice change from the painful tension between my shoulders. I slumped lower.

Kurt Hummel.

"_I'll get him hot; show him what I've got_."

"Oh God," I groaned and cringed internally.

I turned the volume up another four notches. I was going for full-out deafness and alienation. I wanted to be separate from myself at the moment. The Lady Gaga was only a coincidence; it's what was on the radio.

"_He can't read my poker face. She's got to love nobody_."

"Fuck!"

I jammed my finger onto the "up" channel button angrily. I even smacked the thing once when it refused to change quickly enough. I jumped when thunder crashed loudly outside my car. I took that as a sign to head for home, but I ignored my better judgment this time.

I forgot the radio and just sat in the quiet of my car outside of the library. Rain pattered on the roof and the hood, and I adjusted the seat to recline a little and just listen with my eyes closed.

"This is insane," I said aloud. And I meant it. This _was_ insane.

I pulled my cell from my pocket without opening my eyes and pressed "send." The last person that had called me was Azimio, so I pressed "send" again and waited for it to ring.

"Az's phone," I heard him say when he picked up.

"Azimio," I greeted emotionlessly.

"Yo, Dave."

"You busy right now?"

"Naw, man, geometry homework."

I snort despite myself and roll my head to the side on the seat but keep my eyes closed.

"I've got to ask you something, something serious," I say and feel my chest clench a little apprehensively, though I don't plan on actually admitting anything.

"Shoot," Az says after a second, and I can tell he's curious.

I'm quiet for a moment, mulling over what I wanted to say. The rain picks up speed and drowns out the quiet a little more.

Finally, I say, "Suppose you had a favorite color." I stop, unsure how to word this.

"This is serious?"

"Yes," I reply, my tone sounding so.

"Okay..."

"Well," I began, "Suppose I had a different favorite color."

"...and?"

I cringe even though my words are innocuous, though what I actually mean isn't.

"And... well, you're bedroom's painted in your favorite color... blue, I guess. And mine's painted red, my favorite color."

"Dude, my room _is_ blue." Azimio sounds totally confused and I don't blame him.

"Just go with me," I ask him.

"Right."

"Okay, well. More people prefer blue bedrooms... and I've got a red one." I stop, confusing myself.

"_Huh_? Dude, are you okay? You're making even less sense than my geometry homework. You been drinkin' Red Bull again?"

"No," I say in frustration, and I clench my jaw trying to come up with what I want to get across. "Humor me, okay? It's not like you enjoy math."

"Fine. Go on."

I get a better grip on my words when I realize that Azimio might hang up on me, and I don't think that I'll have the strength to try this again.

"The thing is, everybody likes your bedroom, but they hate mine. They hate red. It... sickens them." My voice goes a little funny on that last sentence, and I hope that Azimio attributes it to bad reception.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Why don't you just, I dunno, paint your room blue then?" Azimio says this with a verbal shrug, and I feel my shoulders fall.

"I—I can't just—" I stop myself there and take a breath and mentally punch myself. Chill. Out. You're talking about _bedrooms_ here, okay?

I grip the phone harder and go back to what I was saying, and the words come out more truthful than I was expecting, and I wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"I... It's my favorite color. I... like it. I just like red, okay?" I say defensively, almost angry for no apparent reason. "But lots of people hate it." Maybe even you, I add mentally.

"Why would anybody hate the color red?" Azimio asks me, his tone falsely interested, which I ignore. The corner of my mouth goes up into a partially bitter look. I tell him the truth.

"They, well, they... it's just very different from what they're used to. They think it's bad—er, that red is bad." I feel like an idiot talking like this, but it's the best that I've got at the moment.

"Okay." I hear some papers shuffling and then Az's voice is louder in the phone, clearer, like he's readjusted the phone closer. "...so, everyone hates the color of your room. They hate it, but they like the color of mine... What exactly is your question?"

Azimio sounds unusually serious, and I know that's because he can't figure out what my angle is. I'm easy to understand, so when I'm not, he knows that something's up. I swallow convulsively and run a hand through my hair, my nerves a little on edge.

"Are we still friends?" I ask him. The weight of my words hangs in the air, but I know that his answer essentially means little to what I'm really asking him without his knowledge.

"Dude, who cares? You're talking crazy," Azimio accuses of me, and I nod to myself in agreement. "I've really got to finish this, Dave. We done?" Azimio sounded like he was just a second from pressing the "end" button.

I sigh quietly and tell him, "Yes." And the line's quiet in the next moment.

"Fucking... fuck."

**.O.O.**

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	2. Grans, Grades and 'Fros

**Title: "Are We Still Friends"  
****Rating: T for language.  
****Summary: Karofsky takes the first steps to a better life for himself: telling his best friend the truth. Karofsky and Azimio friendship. Based around Karofsky's father's comments about how he's been acting differently lately; he was better once, that's not gone yet.**

**Notes: Thank you for your kind comments – I hope that you enjoy this one.**

**.O.O.**

"You're such a nice boy, David."

I hold my gran's arm while she hobbles down the hall and keep quiet. Once we're at her room, I wait for her to go first before going in myself. My gran shared a room with another woman at the nursing home, and she gives me a smile and a wave when she sees me.

"Hey Greta," I greet her with a smile of my own and make sure my gran is settled well on her bed.

"Has Susan been running you ragged?" Greta asks of my gran.

I smile politely and sit beside my gran. "She's been great," I say.

"Ah, well, it's a good day then," Greta tells me conspiratorially and winks too.

I grin at her but keep myself turned toward my gran. She hasn't said much beyond a few general phrases or questions today. My gran has a sort of continuous smile on her face as she watches me; she hasn't taken her eyes off of me the whole day.

"Y'okay Gran?" I ask her, reaching out for her hand and then holding it.

"I'm fine, David. How are you?" she asks me.

My brow wrinkles for a split second because we had this conversation back out in the common area.

"I'm good, Gran."

"Hmm," she hums at me, seeming unconvinced.

I laugh and grin. "I am," I tell her again, unconsciously squeezing her hand once.

"Today you are," she agrees with a nod, and I experience an odd thing. She sounds very unlike herself; she sounds more like my mom and the way that she's looking at me reminds me of her too. A little frighteningly, my gran sounds more... lucid than I can remember hearing her in a long time. It's scary because it's different, and I don't take different to mean good when in a nursing home. "You haven't been so lately," she informs me with a knowing look.

I shift uncomfortably in the chair beside her bed and take a quick glance at Greta. Her eyes move away from me when I look over. I look back at my gran and I can't make myself smile for her again. The perception in her eyes is totally unlike her and it unnerves me. I change the subject.

**.O.O.**

"Damn cosine," I mutter under my breath, and I see Azimio fling his pencil across the room. His erasing had been so loud and frequent that I couldn't concentrate every time he had to change his answer and that was often. His pencil hit Jacob Ben Isreal's head and stuck in his 'fro. I would have laughed if I'd been able to remember the formula for the angles I had before me. Instead, I ducked my head back down to my quiz and stared at problem four, trying to absorb what it was asking.

"May I be excused?" Puck asked two seats ahead of me and I didn't blame him, considering I'd forgotten my calculator and was trying to do as much of my quiz as I could without it.

"Headache?" the teacher asks rhetorically. Everyone knew that Puck lied all the time to get out of Mrs. Fitz's class, including Mrs. Fitz.

"Yeah," he says, barely even trying for believable. I roll my eyes and sit back in my chair, stressing out. I hear Azimio laugh from across the room and the distraction annoys me.

Two loud kids go walking by the door outside and Mrs. Fitz gets up to close the door. I catch a couple words of it because they really were being quite vocal.

"...'No, Mr. Jones, I don't know a synonym for 'dull.' 'Ordinary'? Just like this whole damn school..."

The companion's laughter carried from down the hall and he said something back that I couldn't distinguish, not that I cared.

"..._how exceptionally _ordinary_—_"

I blink down at my paper and stare at it without seeing it.

_Brrinnng_.

"Damnit," I curse and slam my pencil down as people around me rush to get up and leave. Idiot, I tell myself because I was; I'd forgotten my calculator _and_ I hadn't studied. I'd meant to, but I couldn't get myself to care enough to pick up my book, so I just dunked some baskets with Azimio instead. We were both avoiding hitting the books.

I cringe when I think of how it's the middle of the year and I can't remember learning anything so far in this class. That couldn't be a good sign. I usually could manage better than _this_. This was pathetic.

"Dude," Azimio calls from the door, already packed up and ready to go.

I sigh and give my quiz one last annoyed, angry look and get up and hand it to Mrs. Fitz. She glances down at it and sees how blank it is. She glances up at me for a second before setting it aside without comment. I grimace and grab my things from my desk with a little more force than I probably had to.

Azimio sees the look on my face as we head out the door and hits me on the arm.

"C'mon, man, everyone fails geometry the first time."

I give him a look and shake my head mutely.

"Dude, it's just one quiz," Azimio says at my side.

"It's the fourth quiz that I've failed in the past two months!" I say hotly, shaking my head at his cluelessness. These things _did_ matter, quizzes, tests, the assignments. I wasn't even scraping by anymore, I was just plain failing.

"Look, I didn't do great either," Azimio tries to reassure me. "Not after 'Fro stole my pencil," he laughed.

I glared at some freshman that I didn't know when he looked at me funny.

"That's not saying much," I shoot over my shoulder and pick up my pace to get away from Azimio. His careless attitude was a stupid thing to have for someone failing more than just math like I was.

"Whatever dude," I hear Azimio say from behind me but I don't feel sorry for saying what I did.

I head for Spanish with a headache forming and, just as it does every day, the trophy case catches my eye. Some awards for Glee club from last year stands out shiny and proud, and I glare fiercely at them as I pass.

Mr. Schuester's greeting goes in one ear and out the other when I reach his class, but he puts a hand on my shoulder to forestall my entering, his "teacher" face on.

"Dave, can I talk to you for a sec?" he asks me and nods a little away from the entrance, down the hall. I follow without saying anything.

Mr. Schuester looks at me for a moment with that caring look of his and I just stand there waiting.

"I hold a review session for Spanish every Tuesday after school," he says, looking me in the eye.

I wait for him to go on, but he doesn't say anything else, just stares at me.

"So?" I prompt finally, not in the mood for guessing games.

Mr. Schuester looks regretful and says, "I think that you should consider attending, David."

I stare at him for a second. Then my voice sounds grim when I ask, "Am I failing?"

Mr. Schuester looks uncomfortable and hesitates before answering. "Not yet," he says finally, though implying with a look his meaning.

"Oh," I say stupidly and turn my back on him to enter the Spanish classroom, my stomach a little lower than it had been a minute ago.

Mr. Schuester starts class and shoots me the occasional concerned look when I squint at something I don't understand on the board, and I realize he's got a point. I could use a little help with verbs.

When class is finished, Mr. Schuester stops me from leaving by saying my name. I stop and wait by his desk until everyone's gone and look at him expectantly.

"We use weekly review packets for the sessions on Tuesday. I don't have any more copies handy, but I can probably have another made before practice is over tonight," he says, referencing the football practice he knew that I had after school today. "Come by the choir room after practice, and I should have it for you then. There isn't rehearsal today," he adds, glancing up at me with his professionally blank expression, and I realize then that he's just as angry at me as the Geek club.

I say a quiet "Okay," and turn and leave, my books under one arm.

I pass the Glee club trophies again and can only manage a weak frown at it.

**.O.O.**

**Alerts, reviews? Comments and/or questions? I'd like to hear what you want to say. Thank you!**


	3. Gay

**Title: "Are We Still Friends"  
****Rating: T for language.  
****Summary: Karofsky takes the first steps to a better life for himself: telling his best friend the truth. Karofsky and Azimio friendship.  
****Notes: Wow, 3,500 words. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**.O.O.**

**dAvEfUrY101**: do you remembr 7th grade

_**A2z**_: 4real?

_**A2z**_: yeah?

**dAvEfUrY101**: i broke ur ps2 and we didnt talk for 2 months

_**A2z**_: yeah so?

**dAvEfUrY101**: well why did you ever talk to me after that

_**A2z**_: Dude what whats wrong with you?

**dAvEfUrY101**: huh?

_**A2z**_: who gives a shit we wer 14. u sayin we shouldn b friends or some shit?

**dAvEfUrY101**: that's stupid

_**A2z**_: i hate to tell u this but youve been acting like a chik 4 months. since when do u care y we r friends?

**dAvEfUrY101**: now i'm a chick, thanks man

_**A2z**_: fuck u u started it. game's on im out c u practise

**dAvEfUrY101**: yea

I turn off the computer, glance at my math book laying on my desk, and grab the Xbox controller. I play it until my eyelids won't stay open any longer and crash on my bed, just barely pulling the covers up before falling asleep.

**.O.O.**

"Someon-mmbm. Smmm-one. Smmmone. Find mmme..."

_Something was... wrong. I was walking the halls of McKinley but they were empty and echoing like a bad horror movie scene._

_I turn my head to hear a bit of the distant music that's coming from somewhere._

_I shake my head once and try to clear the fuzziness in my brain._

"_Kurt!"_

_I whip my head around the other way, but there isn't anyone there to have yelled. Someone had yelled Kurt's name._

"_Daa-aave," a little kid's high voice called down the hall._

_I turn my head back and squint at the kid._

"_Az?" I utter, confused._

_I take a step closer to the kid and he turns and runs away down the hall; I'm positive that had been Azimio Adams, it looked just like him... sort of. We'd only been friends since middle school but we'd always been in the same class before then – that was him all right. Without realizing, I'm following this younger version of Azimio at a sprint. We turn and I skid to a stop. I blink at the open choir room door and sweat breaks out across my back._

"Life is a mystery... everyone must stand alone... I hear you call my name and it feels like—_"_

"_Home," I finish for her, the unidentifiable female singer._

"Find me, find me, find me, somebody to—_"_

"_Love," I gulp._

_My heart rate picks up and I see the young Azimio turn and look at me with a huge smile. It baffles me, and I try to smile back at him. Another song starts up._

"Forget your troubles... c'mon, get happy... the sun is shining... from now on, from now on._"_

_My mouth is dry and I can't make my muscles move. My eyes are still on young Azimio's smiling face and he giggles. He opens his mouth with a grin and sings._

"_Dave and Kurt, sitting in a tree—"_

_My face shows my horror, I'm sure, since I can't speak now for some reason._

"_K-I-S-S-I-N-G, ha ha!" Young Azimio looks away from me and walks into the choir room with a genuine, good-natured laugh._

"_Kurt!"_

_That's me yelling his name, but I'm not moving. How can that be right?_

_Young Azimio pops his head back out of the door._

"_C'mon, Dave, you've got to find Kurt," he tells me and motions for me to follow him._

"What_?" I ask him incredulously, unable to believe my ears or my eyes._

"_Find Kurt, Dave," he says again, this time urgently. He glances behind himself into the choir room and motions again for me to follow and he's looking scared now._

"_Dave, find Kurt!" young Azimio yells at me._

"_No," I mutter thickly and shake my head again. I'm getting fuzzy like before and I tap my right ear a few times and rub at it to see if I'm hearing correctly. "Ack," I hiss in pain from a sudden, unexplainable headache._

"_Kurt!" a far off me yells again._

_I wobble on my feet and end up on the ground, grabbing my head and feeling so bizarre._

"Ah!" I yell and jump at the same time but I'm laying down so the motion is only a jerking reflex.

I glance around me and see dim rays of light peeking through the blinds at my window. I look around for the young Azimio but I realize that he'd been a dream since I'd seen Azimio yesterday in _high school_. For real.

"Fricking... fucking... holy shit," I whisper and run my hands over my face.

My heart's pounding and I can't get Azimio's request out of my head: "_Find Kurt, Dave_." What the hell was that supposed to mean? It was disturbing, and thankfully, only a dream. A crazy, freaky, fucked-up dream, sure... but just a dream.

When I'm sure, absolutely positive, that Azimio won't pop out of the closet and ask me why the hell I'm dreaming of Kurt singing, I get up and walk shakily to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I notice halfway there, in my half-asleep/half-awake way, that my bedroom door was already open when I went through it. I stop in the hall and glance over my shoulder with a confused, sleepy, questioning look but decided that it was nothing to worry about and kept going down the hall.

**.O.O.**

"Get the paper, would you, David?" my Dad asks me at breakfast later while he's making himself some eggs.

I head out the door and grab the paper from the end of the drive. I nod to a woman walking her two dogs and stand clear from the sidewalk so that I'm not jumped on or sniffed inappropriately, gross.

I grab yesterday's mail while I'm waiting for the all-clear and glance through it. There were only a couple of interesting things; there was a magazine subscription request, a post card reminder for an appointment next week for the dentist and a letter addressed "to the parent or guardian of David P. Karofsky". It took me a moment to realize that it must be my report card and I froze when I did.

Should I open it first and claim it never arrived a few weeks later when the subject came up? Maybe I should just tear it up now and be safe. Or should I face the music? The dog-walker yelled at one of her dogs and my head came up to stare mindlessly off at the scene. The lady walks off out of sight and I finally just grip the mail tightly in my hand and walk slowly back to the door.

Inside, my Dad is just putting his eggs on a plate and grabbing the finished toast from the toaster. I put the paper on the dining room table since I always do and hand him the mail.

"Thank you, David," he says when he takes it. He flips through it and I watch nervously, just standing there in the middle of the kitchen.

My Dad reaches the one from the school and glances up at me for a second, a questioning expression on his face. I attempt a smile since I'm just standing there, but just a weak one.

A moment passes between us as I think my Dad probably knows I'm still not doing well in school and I think that my Dad realizes that I'm regretful at least, because I am. My Dad glances back down and looks at the rest of the letters and junk mail.

"You've got an appointment on Tuesday," he says to me while he picks up his plate to carry it to the dining room to eat, ignoring the fact that my report had come in the mail, it seemed. He would've usually said something; it _was_ important, usually. My Dad was ignoring it for my sake. I realized that he was trying to spare me when he didn't have to – in fact, it was his job to yell at me for it – but he didn't.

"Yeah," I say lamely and look away, feeling shame for being... well, kind of purposely bad with school stuff. Not to mention the expulsion. That _had_ been bad. "Thanks," I add belatedly.

I'm looking at nothing as he passes, not meeting his gaze even though I think he might be looking at me. A hand lands on my shoulder.

I glance over in surprise. My Dad smiles a sort of half-smile at me. He looks me in the eye for a second, like he's trying to communicate something to me that I can't understand. I just stare in surprise because I don't know what else to do. Finally, my Dad looks away. He pats me once on the shoulder and continues on to the dining room.

"I love you, David," my Dad says just before he makes it out of the kitchen.

For whatever reason, young Azimio's face pops into my head and I swallow hard and look at the floor.

"You too, Dad," I say, sounding distant even to myself.

I grab my backpack from the floor in the hall and barely pay attention to what I'm doing when I grab my jacket and car keys too.

"Bye, Dad," I say quickly.

"Be careful," my Dad replies as he always does before I leave.

I get the hell out of there and practically run to the car after I make it out the door, thankful that the windows in the dining room don't face the front of the house.

Inside my car, I fumble with the keys, trying to jam them into the ignition the wrong way twice before I finally get it. I go to grip the steering wheel and notice that my hands are shaking.

I stare at them for a second before my head falls back on the headrest and I reach up and press my hands flat against the ceiling, pushing hard, trying to stop them from shaking. The beat of my heart stutters for a second and I realize I'd been holding my breath.

I push the on button for the radio and switch it to some station with oldies rock and try to calm myself.

Finally, after a few moments of some song I didn't recognize, I put the car in gear and back out of the driveway.

I'm halfway to Azimio's, stopped at a stop light, before I realize that it's Saturday and I don't actually have school so I don't have to pick him up; he'd probably still be in bed anyway.

I go the opposite way than I'd been headed before and decide that some chocolate milk would be very good right now since I was obviously an idiot who couldn't even tell what day it was even though it was obviously late in the morning and my alarm hadn't gone off earlier to wake me up. _What the hell?_

I park in front of the gas station and it almost kills me when I see the body shop next door, right next to a modest white house.

"_Hummel's Body Garage_" is plastered all over the front of the place and the giant sign proclaimed it so also.

I didn't have a choice though; what I wanted was at the gas station and I'd be damned if I was about to drive across town to the other one just because Hummel lived next door to it.

Despite that, it's hard to force myself out of the car.

I grab what I want and check out. I get back into my car and open the small chocolate milk. My eyes unconsciously fly to some movement to the right. One of the doors is going up at Hummel's Body Garage. My eyes are glued to what's going on.

Mr. Hummel walks out and flips the "We're Closed" sign over to "We're OPEN."

My window is open a little, so I hear and see him yell something that I can't make out to someone in the garage. Then I see him cough once and rub his chest. I grip the milk container harder in my hand and expect Mr. Hummel to fall over or something, but he doesn't. He just looked a little tired. I grip the plastic container in my hand hard and swallow to clear my throat. Something about seeing Hummel's dad sick kind of made him want to throw something.

The man had a bad heart... and what was I doing? I was fucking terrorizing his kid and giving stupid threats that meant nothing because I was just scared Kurt would go blabbing to everyone. About... that.

I swallowed a couple of big gulps of milk, capped it, and set it aside, my arm shaking once violently when I did.

Hummel wasn't going to tell anyone; what the fuck would he care beyond blackmailing me to quit tormenting him and stopping slushying the Geek Club? Hummel hadn't even said anything when both of their dads had been there, and the principal, him safe from harm then if not from retribution later. Had he really not said anything because I'd threatened him? And the look on my Dad's face when he'd heard...

I glanced back at Mr. Hummel and just suddenly thought that I was an asshole for it all. What the fuck? What the hell was my problem again? What the fuck, what the fuck?

Oh... right, the gay thing.

The GAY thing.

I gripped the steering wheel and wrung my hands on it, my heart rate going up again. I looked around outside the windows of my car but nothing was going on. Mr. Hummel had gone inside. I was alone in my car, again, and I felt the same way that I had last week in the rain at the library. When I'd asked Az, but not really, if we'd still be friends if I was ga—

"Fuck," I say loudly, wringing my hands on the wheel and hitting my head back against the seat. I started sweating and rubbed my forehead hard and clenched my jaw. What the fuck was wrong with me? All this because of a fucking word? But it's not the words—it's the thing. The thing; the thing that I shouldn't say—the thing that would make Az punch me in the face if I said it with any real conviction.

But no—I couldn't believe that. Would he really punch me? He'd only punched me once ever and that had been after his mom had been in the hospital. He'd been worried and I had said something stupid. But he'd said sorry within and hour and we'd never talked about it again. I tried to remember the last time we'd actually talked and I couldn't. It was like we'd grown out of it somewhere between 7th grade and now. We hadn't actually talked about anything, well, important, until I'd called him last week. And I still didn't have an answer. And fuck knows what my Dad would think.

I remembered what Hummel's dad had been like in the principal's office. He'd been furious—and he'd pinned me to a wall that same day, asked me "See how you like it for a change, huh?" Fuck, he'd been scary. He'd have hog-tied me if Finn and Kurt hadn't pulled him off of me because he was sick. Because he was sick. Mr. Hummel was sick and it sounded serious. Of course it was serious – the man was paler than the ice in an ice rink. He didn't _look_ healthy, even from a distance. My heart clenched like it was my own Dad that was sick. The image of my Dad that sick-looking was like a physical blow to the stomach.

My Dad had tried to find out why I was acting so weird when he'd said I'd never used to be this way. And I asked myself that now.

Was I a fucking gang member now? Did I go around beating up kids that I thought looked funny? I did... I actually did. What the fuck? When did I turn into someone people flinched away from? My Dad didn't raise me like that... so where had I gotten it from? When had _this_ become me?

And why... the hell... did Hummel... feel good enough to walk down the hall... flashy as can be... when I couldn't even... think the word 'gay'. Why wasn't this even a fraction hard for him as it was for me?

Gay, I thought lightly. And... gay again. And again... gay.

Suddenly, the word didn't seem as taboo as it had before. I almost wanted to yell it, but I realized that Mr. Hummel would probably think I was taunting him or something—it was me, after all. It hurt to think that I was that much of a pain to someone with every reason for it to be that way, completely justified.

It was quiet outside the car and I sat there quiet too, finally calm enough to think very clearly. It was like I'd just had a massage and my muscles were lax and my heart rate was slowed to normal and I felt relaxed.

Something was nagging at me... There was something I wasn't understanding. Gay... My two definitions of the word clashed when I thought about it.

The fucking gay thing. Now that I could think it without cringing, I used the word more.

The thing, when the guys at school said "gay," it was a term meaning "wrong" "different" and "too strange to go there"... they didn't actually _mean_ gay, though.

That actually made me feel... better.

Hummel's words came back to me with that thought.

"_You can't punch the gay out of me any more than I can punch the ignoramus out of _you_._"

Oh fuck. Hummel had been saying something different; we_ hadn't_ been talking about the same thing. He'd been saying that I was an idiot, obviously... But. He'd said to me that he wouldn't stop liking dudes just because I'd scared him a couple of times, smashing him into lockers.

Oh, oh, _oh_. That's it. That had been it. Hummel was fucking right, I was an ignoramus—not that I would ever say so out loud, though.

Hummel wanted to be with a guy... so? My Dad had never once said one gay slur. Never. He didn't believe in being an asshole. Like me.

Hummel's words suddenly made much more sense to me now. He'd actually said, "I won't stop liking guys." But what I'd heard was, "No, I won't stop being an enormous pain in your ass; I don't give a fuck."

_They _hated him, some of them. I wasn't stupid about that, though. I knew that some of them did hate or dislike Hummel because he liked guys instead of girls. I hate the trouble he's caused me, but I don't actually hate _him_, never really have.

Because... I... liked him, even just as any guy likes any other guy. But they don't.

And that kind of kills me.

Because I might... even think he's attractive. _...In that way_. ...In the only _way_ that meant something.

But some of them didn't get it, including me... they hated "different than the norm". What they hated... well, it wasn't really clear.

"Normal". What shit that was.

I didn't think that the expectation or definition for "normal" was quite the same anymore, in a way. The Glee club Kurt had been in had their own level of normal. "Normal" was more defined, if my experience with them was any example, as "decent".

As long as none of them screwed with each other too much to not be forgiven or accepting, they _were_ okay in their eyes. All you had to be was decent. Not straight. Or pretty, either. I bet even chubby, sweaty boys would be welcome, all the ones who didn't use a mask of homophobia to keep all of his friends. Maybe I could even concede that "Glee Club" was actually the term for "Come Have a Good Time if You've Got the Balls to Not Care What Your Immature Friends Think". Eh. Seemed right. Though, the "cool" side of me resisted complementing them. No, not "cool". Scared. The scared side of me that had trouble saying the word "gay" out loud. I realized that they might be the same thing, but I didn't want to go any farther with that right now.

They were normal, decent people. And I was an asshole who said offensive things and shoved people out of his way, even if they weren't actually in his way. A possibly... hypocritical... asshole.

I blinked, having been staring at the bottle of milk like it was about to grow legs and walk away. I looked around.

The sun was a little brighter. I didn't know how long I'd been sitting there.

I glanced at Hummel's Body Garage. A finished car was pulling out, a man waving his hand out the window saying "goodbye" and "thank you" to someone inside the garage.

"Okay," I said to myself, and the sound in the quiet was strange.

I put the key in and hesitated. I looked at the radio in the dashboard. I pressed "on," backed up, and pulled out of the parking lot.

**.O.O.**

**I'd really like to know your comments. Thank you.**


	4. What Do Girls' Lips Taste Like?

**Title: "Are We Still Friends"  
****Summary: Karofsky takes the first steps to a better life for himself: telling his best friend the truth. Karofsky and Azimio friendship.**

**Notes: Thank you for all of the alerts, favs and reviews!**

** Rating: T for language and sexual situations.**

**.O.O.**

Houses looked strange to me as I drove home. Places that I drove by every day to get to school seemed unfamiliar. I was edgy but a lot calmer than I had been earlier. I felt bad though and faintly shameful. I felt as if I was driving toward a crowd of people who were going to throw things at me and yell nasty names, but it felt warranted.

I admitted that I was changed from this morning... different. Something felt different. I felt better but worse. It was as if a source of stress had gone but my back was up and I was ready for a fight. Maybe it was fight I was ready to be a part of, I conceded in a moment of clear honesty. I allowed myself to crawl into my invisible shell in the next moment.

I was more sensitive to what was going on around me; I was much more careful. I felt paranoid... but it seemed justified. My face took on a slightly sick look from some unrecognizable fright. I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter but this fear I had now was easier to combat than the fright from before in my driveway. I felt like I could fight this one. This fear made sense. I strangely felt more normal and sane than I had in the past year. And yet I was so different. I felt normal but different. My cell buzzed and it took me by surprise. I reached into my pocket and took my gaze off of the road ahead of me for a moment to read it.

**Jakes party canceled. Party 2nite my house u in? at 8**

I blinked at the message, glanced up to check the road and then stared at it for another second. Yeah, I guess I was going tonight. At least I didn't need to drive all the way over to Jake's now. I didn't really feel like a party but it seemed wrong to ditch Azimio on his big night with Hannah. He'd talked about making his move this weekend and asking her out on a date. Since he was actually serious about her, it really was important. Ditching him was not a cool-best-friend thing to do. So I snapped my phone shut and stuffed it back in my pocket.

I turned the corner onto my street and waved to my neighbor who was getting the mail. When I got inside my house, my Dad was in his office with the door closed, so I didn't bother him.

**.O.O.**

I was ready and out the door at six so that I could pick up some food for the party. I was picking up the pizza that Azimio's dad had very generously put on his Visa in exchange for no drinking in his house. Az was lucky.

When I got to Az's, there were only a couple of people there, but it was only about seven so I expected the place would be ridiculously loud when eight rolled around.

"Dave!" Az yelled at me from across the room and waved me over.

I sat down the pizzas and grocery bags on the folding table and went over to him and the guy he was talking to.

"Dave, this is Greg, my cousin from New York. Greg, Dave," he introduced us.

I shook his hand and said hey. He seemed friendly enough, though he had on kind of dirty-looking clothes. He didn't even look related to Azimio standing next to him. It wasn't bad, just not like Mr. Adams's high standards, therefore bizarre.

"Dude, you think I could get Hannah to kiss me if we played seven minutes or spin the bottle?" Az asked me, sounding his usual self. I laughed and shook my head.

"I'll see you later," Greg said lowly, looking at something over my shoulder.

I turned to see what was so interesting, but before I saw, Azimio grabbed my shoulder and pulled me away.

"Hannah said she's coming tonight," Azimio said gleefully and hit me on the chest. "Thanks man for inviting her for me."

"Yeah," I said, grinning at Az's uncommonly overly-cheery attitude. I asked the obligatory question, but in my head it was more open-ended, which I tried to not make a big deal out of. "She bringing a friend?" I asked, laughing.

"Alli and maybe Trinity. Man, this is gonna be fun."

Az walked over to the stereo to put something on. My smile faded half-way and stuck that way as I watched a couple of people come in through the front door. Az's cousin had disappeared off to somewhere and Az was busy, so I took a seat on the couch and just hung around until some more people showed up or Azimio was free. After fifteen minutes of just sitting and watching, my phone buzzed and I pulled it out to read the text I'd gotten. I opened it without seeing who it was from.

**Want to come to my house this weekend?**

I frowned and pushed the down button to see who it was from. Oh, my Mom. That made sense then. I felt the scowl on my face as I slapped my phone shut loudly.

"Dude, what's up?" Azimio appeared in front of me holding an open Coke in his hand and another in his other hand which he passed to me.

A few more people had shown up and there was actually a small crowd now. Music pounded in the background.

"My Mom," I grunted, glaring a little at the wall.

"Oh," Azimio said with a slight knowing look. "Sorry, man."

I shrugged. It was no big deal. Azimio walked off saying something about Hannah that I didn't catch over the music. Just then, a group of ten people came through the front door and it was officially packed. And there she was, Hannah dressed all in red with lipstick to match. I pulled a face before I could stop myself. Her generous use of make-up made her look like Mimi from the Drew Carey Show. Ugh, gross. Az actually liked her. I saw Azimio meet up with her and I could imagine which of his usual lines he was trying on her. Az was slightly superficial in that area. I didn't tell him, but I sometimes thought that he would have a better time with someone who _wasn't_ a Cheerio. But he wanted the "best" he could get, which he saw as tall, a Cheerio and with just enough attitude to be spicy. I didn't think that I could get a Cheerio, so I'd never really tried. The football team never seemed like a big enough reason to persuade me to one of them. I hadn't found one that caught my attention enough to try for it, anyhow. I considered that that was likely a problem, or worse, a sign. I cringed before I could stop myself. I had given myself too much freedom to think about that particular subject and more things were making sense to me, though I would have traded that for things to be easier.

I might be better off without blond, skinny Cheerios. My mind jumped to the first blond I could think of, Sam Evans. I immediately froze my thoughts there and pushed them aside and pretended to have never thought it in the first place.

I got up to get a cup and some ice for my Coke. When I got to the cooler, it was nearly empty so I just set the can down for later. A hand hit me on the back and I turned to see Azimio behind me with Hannah under his arm. They'd sure gotten chummy fast.

"Dude, Hannah brought a couple of friends with her, over there," Azimio pointed over by the pizza and my eyes followed.

I looked back at Azimio and Hannah. I replied without thinking, distracted. "So?"

Hannah made a face at me that read "you're so stupid" and Azimio half-coughed-half-laughed and clapped me on the shoulder.

"Go man, this is your chance! Alli told Hannah that the only reason she was coming was because you'd be here." Azimio grinned at me.

"Oh," I said without enthusiasm and glanced over again. One was blond, Trinity, the other, Alli, a brunette. They kind of looked the same. Hair, nose, eyes, the differences were minimal. I turned back to Azimio and Hannah, who I kind of liked even less now. "Right."

I cleared my throat and went over to the two who had been looking our way. Alli smiled big and Trinity looked like she smiled more out of politeness. "Hi," I said, smiling too.

"Hi," Trinity said. Alli just smiled.

Az and Hannah walked up behind me, Az with his arm around her waist. The music turned to something a little more mellow for slow dancing but my ears kept pounding an echoing rhythm.

"Who wants to play spin the bottle?" Hannah said, a little viciously I thought, though that could have been my imagination. She was looking right at me when she said it. Probably thought I was too scared to kiss an almost-stranger in front of my friends.

"No thanks," Trinity said levelly, waved and walked off. I thanked her in my head. You can't play spin the bottle with four people, not enough variety, I was saved.

I caught Azimio looking at me with wide, 'help me out' eyes. Oh, he wanted to make out with Hannah, of course. I glanced at Alli and saw her looking at me too, and she looked quite keen on the idea. The last person I looked at was Hannah who had a kind of cruel expression on her face, looking like she enjoyed toying with my obvious discomfort, though she likely didn't know the real reason why. That made me angry, and my eyes narrowed.

"The basement," I said before I could stop myself. I pause to call myself an idiot, and continue with my thought because what else can I say now? "Let's go to the basement. I'd rather..." My eyes went to Alli who looked nice but just seemed the same as most of the girls in my school. The thought came to me unbidden that I know what I'd rather: Sam Evans.

My throat closed a little bit and it made my voice sound a little off, slightly higher. "Seven—" I cleared my throat and tried again. "Seven minutes in heaven." I look at Az and my expression isn't what it should be, I know, because I don't feel in the least excited, I feet kind of frantic. I hadn't expected to test my desires _tonight_. I hadn't known about Hannah bringing a friend who actually _wanted_ to kiss me. Well, maybe she didn't want to, but that's where spin the bottle went to, wasn't it?

Azimio's expression changed slightly while looking at me. He looked confused but hid it well from the others. His hesitation in trying to egg me on with the making-out was unlike him, therefore being my hint that he was confused. He looked me in the eye with a small crease between his eyebrows. He had to know, he couldn't possibly see everything he was seeing now and _not know_. He knows and he is going to yell it to everyone at the party then shove me out the door, probably.

"Or, we could just make out," I gabbled and then stopped talking while my heart pounded with fear. I'd glanced at Alli while I'd spoken, but now I was staring straight at Azimio who was staring at me back.

"Sounds fun," Alli piped up with an eager smile at me.

"Why don't you two get a Coke or something while I talk to my man here. Then we can head downstairs." Azimio grinned suggestively at Hannah and smiled at Alli, finally breaking our stare. I look away with short breath, glancing around the room to get a grip on myself.

Hannah took Alli's hand and agreed with a similar leer. I made a face and blinked a few times while looking at nothing around the partying room of people. Azimio took a step over to me and I had just enough nerve to glance at him and then look away.

"Dude," Az said lowly, leaning a little closer to keep our conversation private. "Are you okay? Did your Mom say something else?"

I was looking over at the front door which had been left open to allow easy access to plenty of make-out space outside. My heart and my face froze.

Oh.

He really had no idea? My secret was safe...? For a moment there, I'd been sure he'd figured it out. But no, he thought this was about my family problems?

"Yeah," I said, not looking at him, my voice flat, my expression hard. What was wrong with me?

"Forget about it man," Azimio nearly pleaded with me. "We've got two chicks here who want to go make out. That's got to be better than thinking about your Mom bugging you, right?"

"Hmm," I hummed. Then I shrugged. No, it didn't matter; it made no difference whatsoever. Fuck Sam Evans, the kid was an idiot, and I couldn't actually want... to kiss... and idiot. No, no way that would make me happy.

"Dave?"

"Yeah," I said, sounding far away, still staring at the front door.

"C'mon, man," Azimio said and patted my back to get me to follow him. I followed without saying anything, without thinking anything either. It didn't matter anymore.

We met back up with the girls and Azimio held out his arm for Hannah and she slid up to his side. It took me a second, but I did the same and it looked like Alli blushed a little when she got rather close to me and hesitantly put her arm around my back. She looked happy at least. She was nice, not like Hannah was, a little witch. I could pretend for her... for Azimio. For Hannah, make her get off of my back, wipe that cruel smile off of her face, show her I was man enough to kiss a girl for a half hour.

**.O.O.**

Alli and I sat on a couch while Azimio and Hannah took a couple of old bean bags across the room. Thankfully, the music from upstairs was drowning out the sound of them sucking face behind us. I resisted the urge to look back at them for tips. I didn't make out much, but I hoped it wasn't too obvious.

"Do you want to kiss me?" Alli asked half-shyly, half-boldly. She looked sweet and was looking me in the eye.

"Oh, yes, um... I do," I said awkwardly and turned toward her a little more on the couch. The thought that this wasn't my first kiss struck me and I hesitated half-way through leaning over to kiss her. This probably wouldn't be the same. Alli was staring hopefully at me, so I leaned in the rest of the way without allowing myself think about it.

Our lips meshed softly together and we kissed lightly, turning our heads to a different angle after a moment to kiss that way instead.

Her lips were soft and smaller so it was easy to move around them. They were fine lips. They were soft and glossy, kind of tasted like root beer, oddly. That confused me but I went with it.

She put her hand on my knee and I leaned a little closer to kiss her better. I opened my eyes for a second and saw hers were closed so I closed mine too. I was trying to be polite or something. I didn't even know. Her lips were nice. They were soft and we were kissing so I enjoyed it I suppose. I hadn't really been in the mood for making-out was the thing. Still, she kissed nice. Though, was it my imagination, or was her hand moving to...?

I covered her hand that had moved up my leg a ways with my own. Our eyes opened at the same moment. We looked at each other for a second, she moved her hand away, and we went back to kissing.

A few minutes later, I was getting the hang of kissing her well. I was more adventurous and put my hand behind her head to press her mouth closer to mine. I had nothing to fear from making out with a girl, so I let myself go a bit. Why not? Why couldn't I do that? I'd kissed Hummel, I could kiss Alli if I wanted to.

Alli opened her mouth a bit and kissed my upper lip better, letting her tongue move along it. A small flash of desire went through me. I brought my hand to her waist and this time when she moved her hand up my leg, I let her. At the same moment, our tongues brushed against each other, and I felt the proximity of her hand very clearly. My hand brushed the corner of her chest, and I heard her moan the tiniest bit against my lips.

To hell with Sam Evans, this girl was kissing me and enjoying it, damnit. Fuck you, Hummel, I'm not all that sweaty... and fat... and ordinary. Or bald. Jesus, I was imagining Alli's face was actually Hummel's... the dark hair made that easy.

The desperate feeling I'd had when kissing Hummel, just to prove how wrong he was, was back. With fumbling hands, I reached out with both of my arms and pulled Alli up by her sides (she was rather small) and leaned back on the couch with her falling on top of me as gently as I could put her down. My eyes were closed so I opened them to see her face. She was looking at me closely for a moment and then she leaned her head down and kissed me nothing like how she had before. She pressed her whole body against me, her knee between my legs which seemed intended.

We stopped long enough to listen and glance at Azimio and Hannah going up the stairs of the basement. I assumed they were going to his room. I put my fingers through Alli's dark hair and moaned when she sucked on my upper lip. I run my hand up her thigh and press on the zipper on her jeans to make an obvious suggestion that I'd already kind of hinted at. Her breath sounded loud to me and I held on to her closely.

I had to keep my eyes open to not picture kissing Kurt, so I did. But, I slipped a couple of times and my eyes slid closed and I was kissing him again for a split second. I cut myself off from almost heatedly saying his name. And then I wondered if it would be better if I tried thinking of Sam so that I didn't keep seeing Hummel's face and remembering his lips. Her hand went the button of my jeans and undid it. Then she pulled down the zipper.

I wrench my lips away from hers and suck in breaths to make up for not breathing as much while kissing. I think of Kurt's face and Sam's face. Then I look at her above me. I put my right arm around her and hold her close while I turn us over so that I'm on top and she is below me. I stare down at her, and she looks up at me with dilated pupils, lips and face red, looking for all the world that she is just wanting for me to be with her so intimately, hotly and right now. I stare at her a long time, her eyes, her hair, her breasts. She was beautiful. I'd misjudged her as ordinary before.

I leant down and hesitated. Then I lightly kissed her forehead, thinking.

Whose face would I be picturing if we had sex? Was that fair to her? I could be with her right now, she wanted it and I could do it, so shouldn't I? I'd gotten us both riled up, but could I seal the deal?

I move my head to the side and rest my forehead on the arm of the couch above her, my arms at her sides to keep me from putting too much of my weight on her.

I swallowed thickly and scrunched my eyes shut; I was glad the lights were a little dim. It's _not a 'deal'_. It's love, it's love, it's _love_! Sex is more than a deal, there's got to be love in there somewhere. That's what my father taught me, right? And... I don't think I have any for her. I turned my head sideways and covered an unidentifiable distressed sound with the crook of my arm, a little squeak of noise. Because, by that definition, I love a guy and I am definitely attracted to another. Fuck, it's true.

Kurt Hummel, Sam Evans... they might be better. They... they are better.

I couldn't be with her while I really liked someone else, someone else I found gorgeous and compared everyone else to unconsciously, could I? Sex would be a connection, and I _can't_ do that to her. I didn't have time to ask her if she expected a relationship from me after this. I couldn't assume from her personality (the little I knew of it) that she only wanted this one time of intimacy, closeness, sex on this couch.

I couldn't spend that time with her for selfish reasons, like I'd done with Kurt. It was more selfish than I was willing to be, and I didn't feel for her what Kurt's light step did for me, what his face meant to me, his hair...

The thought of losing my virginity to Alli felt like... a cop-out, a lie, a punch in my own gut. She was nice; I couldn't play her. I was trying to _not_ be an asshole, right? This constant fright and fight was ruining my life, damnit.

"Dave?" Alli said from below me, her voice sweet and her tone expectant.

My stomach clenched and I shook my head ever so slightly to the left then right. My head's still resting on the couch arm and I turn it just a little in her direction, her face inches from mine, but I'm not looking at her, I'm looking at the fabric of the couch so that I don't have to.

"I'm sorry," I whisper in her ear, my regret plain in my voice, I hope, my tone final.

She's quiet a moment, and I can't look her in the eye. She's stopped trying to get me closer and is just laying there.

"Is it me?" she asks me finally, sounding discouraged.

"No," I say vehemently. "You're wonderful," I say truthfully, if a little forcefully. Wonderful as her, not wonderful for me.

"You're lying," she accuses me angrily. Alli moves to get out from under me, her movements harsh and quick.

I let her up but I grab her hand before she can go. She glances down at my hand gripping hers, then up to my eyes, which I hope show my sincerity. I lie, but it feels more right than my other possible lie.

"I have a girlfriend. We had a fight, but we're not broken up yet. I'm sorry, I should have told you."

She looks like she's going to hit me for a moment, the glare she's giving me, a fierce one.

But all she says is, "Yes, you should have." She gave her arm a yank and I let it go.

She storms away and I watch her leave. "Ass," she says over her shoulder as she goes.

Not this time, I'm not, I think.

**.O.O.**

**Alerts, reviews? Comments, questions?**


	5. It's in His Kiss

**Title: "Are We Still Friends"  
Rating: T for language and sexual situations.  
Summary: Karofsky takes the first steps to a better life for himself: telling his best friend the truth. Karofsky and Azimio friendship. Based around Karofsky's father's comments about how he's been acting differently lately; he was better once, that's not gone yet.  
Notes: This takes place an hour or so after the previous chapter. The Glee club's song "Pretending" also fits Dave very well. This chapter's 5,000 words.**

**Song mentioned: "E. T." by Katy Perry, which applies well to Dave too, I think.**

**.O.O.**

"_Mommy? Where are you? Helloo-ooh?"_

_A man walked up to me, kneeled down and looked me in the eye._

"_You okay, buddy?"_

_I stared at him and didn't say a word._

"_Can't find your mother?" he asked me, tilting his head._

_I shook my head and felt scared. Dad told me never to talk to strangers, and I didn't know this man with the curly hair. But he wasn't asking me to go with him, so he might be okay... The man reached out his hand._

"_Why don't you come with me and I'll help you find her?" the man said with a smile._

_I looked at his hand and then back up into his eyes He seemed friendly, and he wanted to find my Mom. I just didn't know what the best idea was. I was going to take his hand when a tall blond woman came up behind him and put her hand his arm. She looked unfriendly to me._

"_Who's this?" she asked the man._

_He glanced up at her and said, "I don't know. I just found him. I think he's lost."_

_The woman turned and looked at me funny, though she was smiling. She reached out for me, still smiling oddly and the quick motion frightened me. I jumped back a little and looked at the man, my eyes wide. He looked scared too, though kind of in a nice way; it reminded me of my Dad's look when I fell off of my bike. He held his hand up in front of the woman which stopped her from coming any closer. He glanced at her for a second and then back to me, still with that look on his face._

"_Terri," he started to say to the woman, but she interrupted him in a rude way that I didn't expect, though I couldn't understand why she was being that way._

"_Oh, Will, come on – this is probably the only chance we're going to get to see what being a parent is like. You know, we could just walk around the mall with him a bit and see if he sees his mother."_

"_Terri."_

_The man was shaking his head with a bizarre expression on his face, his head turned up toward the woman._

"_Will, when are you going to start taking this seriously? We need practice." The tall woman put her hands on her hips._

"_Terri, this isn't the time," he said in a final way._

"_Will, don't be ridiculous."_

_The woman reached down and took my hand in a grip too tight. I panicked; Dad had certainly told me what to do if a stranger grabbed me. I kicked her in the shin and screamed "Help" at the top of my lungs. I heard the man yell her name again, but I just kept screaming for help until I could wiggle my hand out of her grip. As soon as I was loose, I ran for it, into the closest crowd of people, who happened to be staring at me because I had been screaming. I ran through them and yelled, "Mom!" with every spare breath that I had. No one came up to me though, just stared at me. I just kept yelling for her, hoping I'd find her around some corner of the mall._

_A security guard ran into my path and I crashed into him and fell over on my side._

_I got up and tried to catch my breath enough to answer his questions. I was just about to try and get an answer out when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and I was as tall as the man with curly hair, from before, who now stood before me. I could look him right in the eye without having to look up._

_My eyebrows angled down in confusion. He was looking at me seriously, but like he knew me now. Suddenly this was a familiar discussion._

"_You could be one of the most talented guys in the school."_

_I sat down without knowing why; my legs felt too heavy to hold me up any longer after all of the running. My legs were longer I noticed as I looked down with familiar shame._

_Mr. Schuester was standing a few feet in front of me, talking to the empty choir room chairs around me, not looking at me, but gestured to me with his hand. His words faded in when I realized he was talking about me. I stared at him, my expression stony from my shameful self-critical mood. His words were matter-of-fact._

"_The kind of bullying that David does is born out of ignorance."_

_I heard something over my shoulder, someone talking. I turned around but didn't see anyone. The setting of the choir room turned dark and eventually faded away into black. I realized that I was lying down._

"Do you want me?" The voice was bold. I heard scuffling and the sound of whooshing air from someone plopping down on a bean bag chair. Someone laughed lowly and I heard kissing noises from the other side of the room, behind the couch where I was, I realized. I kept my eyes closed and didn't move.

"Hell yes, Greggie."

Someone hit the beanbag and laughed again.

"Don't call me that, Spunk. Am I going to have to teach you a lesson?"

I woke up more the more that I heard, but I kept my eyes shut firmly and my limbs locked in place. It took me a minute to remember where I was—at Azimio's party, in his house in the basement. This was an odd situation. They were probably about to hook up and I was just laying there. I should probably just make a run for the door so that I didn't have to listen to it. And what if they tried to move to the couch? That would be awkward. I steeled myself to make as quick of a break for it that I could.

"What do you wanna do?"

I gripped the edge of the couch to help me get up quickly without falling over.

"I don't care, just touch me, I'm rock hard."

"Take your boxers off."

I froze with my hand still curled around the edge of the couch. I realized that I'd mistaken one of them for a girl's voice, unless there was some sort of threesome going on.

"Greg," a deep voice groaned, and I swallowed the lump in my throat that I hadn't realized was there.

"You always this easy, Spunk?"

"Not as easy as you think." I heard an unidentifiable scuffling.

"Ahhh."

My eyes were open and wide now, and I felt my face heating up. The room was almost completely dark. I tried not to listen, but I couldn't move my hands to cover my ears for fear of them hearing my clothes rustling. It would be even worse to get caught listening now.

"Do that – ah, ah."

My pulse sped up, and I was stuck there listening, gripping the couch on both sides of me. I heard them kissing again, and my chest clenched somewhere in the region of my heart. I shut my eyes and scrunched them together. I felt like someone had stolen all the air in the room because I tried to take a breath but couldn't quite manage it.

"That's it, that's it," Greg said in a slightly higher tone.

"Mmmm, I know," Spunk crooned.

I heard them whispering, and I caught the occasional mention of a body part, but not very much else. Someone groaned and sighed loudly, and I felt like I wasn't attached to my body. I had never expected to hear something like this. I didn't know what was the right way to react, so I just found myself being nothing, just as detached as I could manage. If I could have run, I would have, but I definitely couldn't now.

"You're so hot," Greg whispered into the darkness.

"Mm, I could kiss you all night."

"Do it."

I heard them kiss once. My knuckles hurt from gripping the couch, so I let my grip loosen.

"I can't. I've got class tomorrow at eight. Physics Lab—can't miss it. But I'll come by after?"

They kissed again, longer this time. I felt my chest hurt again in the same place as before. I suddenly felt very unattractive; I was too chubby and too sweaty. He was right, he was utterly and completely right.

"I'll miss you, Greggie. Call me tomorrow?"

"'K." Someone got up off the bean bags. "James."

"Yeah?" He was closer to the couch so I stayed as still as I could. The other got up and his voice was closer. They were right behind me.

"Love you."

He walked back, away from the couch. "Love you too. Want to walk me to my car?" He asked suggestively. They kissed again.

Someone upstairs turned up the music, so the resounding beat of Katy Perry's "E.T." drowned out what they were saying. I saw light from the door leading upstairs when it was opened. I stayed where I was for a second more before I pealed myself off of the couch. I was getting out of there and _now_. I flipped the switch for the lights so that I could see where I was going up the stairs.

"What are you doing here?"

I stopped a foot away from the stairs and spun around. Greg, Azimio's cousin, was there, staring at me. "E. T." pounded on, making things even more awkward. They must have decided to go up separately, something I hadn't considered since I was trying to rush. I stood there, frozen in place, nothing to say because I didn't know what to say at all.

"You're Z's friend," Greg said accusingly. I blinked and didn't say anything. So what if I was? He added with a darker tone, "The gay hater."

My eyes went wide. Greg looked at me hatefully, like I had done something to him personally. I suppose I sort of had, if he was making out with guys. I clenched my right fist out of nerves, not threateningly, it was just an odd habit I had. He took a couple of steps closer to me while I stayed where I was.

"Didn't you make some little kid transfer?" he asked me, his eyes hard, his tone accusatory still.

"I—" I faltered, standing there, barely moving. I didn't know what to say. What was I supposed to say to him?

"You've got quite a reputation, you know, with a lot of my friends." Greg told me. I looked at him oddly. He explained, "I heard Z talking about it last month. Drunkenly spilling his guts to me." He added, "Told him I had a boyfriend. That shut him up. Pretty well, actually."

I clenched my jaw and looked away. I heard him walk closer to me until he was just a foot away, and I looked him in the eye, slightly defiantly. I didn't owe this guy anything. I'd hurt Hummel's feelings, not his.

"What is your big problem with us?" he asked me point blank, frankly, with curiosity in his voice.

"How'd he take it?" I asked genuinely, feeling desperate to get an answer to my question.

Greg took it the wrong way and shook his head disgustedly and glared at me. "You're a dick, Karofsky," he said.

"I prefer the term 'asshole,'" I said honestly, looking away again. "Fits better," I added glumly.

"What?" he said, sounding confused and not a little annoyed.

I glared at the carpet like it was the reason for all of my problems, though, I was really to blame for all of my shit. But there was nothing else I could do.

"I kiss guys," he said. I didn't look at him.

So do I, I replied mentally.

"Date them in fact," he added. "Sometimes even sleep with them. You gonna call me names and push me around too?" he continued in a harsh tone. The music quieted upstairs making the basement feel more isolated from the rest of the house and the party.

"Do you like men, Karofsky?" I looked up from the floor to his face, realizing too late that that had been a taunt, not a serious question. I looked away again. I felt empty, like I had no personality. I shook my head lightly in denial but my face didn't quite accord with my response; my expression was blank, devoid of emotion. It was that or run to my car and freak out again, I could feel it.

It was quiet for a moment. Then Greg asked again, more flatly, "Do you?"

I didn't answer and I didn't take my eyes off of the floor.

"Do you know?" he asked me, softer.

My eyes looked around the room, stopping when they reached the beanbags across the room. My gaze flicked to Greg's face, who had turned to see what I was looking at.

Greg turned back to face me and his brow was down. He didn't look angry anymore.

"Have you ever kissed a guy?" he asked me lightly, not seeming to expect an answer for some reason, even though he'd asked. I thought of Kurt's reaction and sighed.

"Who?" His tone was gentle now. His change in attitude surprised me a little. I winced and didn't speak.

"Oh," Greg said knowingly after a minute. "The kid?"

"We're the same age," I said defensively. I didn't deny his suggestion, though. What was the point of denying it if it wasn't making him angry? It was true that I had kissed Hummel, disgusted though he'd been.

"How'd he take it?" Greg asked honestly, repeating my question.

I glanced at him with a "What do you think?" expression and he nodded. I rolled my eyes.

"Are you gay?" He asked me offhandedly.

I leant back on the wall behind me. "Doesn't matter," I replied in a hard tone. I examined the floor for something to do.

He laughed at me and I looked up, annoyed. Greg was smiling slightly at me. He took a step closer and looked me in the eye with a serious expression. "Yes it does," he said, and it sounded wise, like he knew something I didn't, which was also annoying. "Did that turn you on?" he nodded his head back toward the beanbags.

"What, you making out with your little boyfriend? No," I snapped.

"My friends wanna beat your ass, Karofsky, for what you did to that kid," Greg said seriously. "You don't mess with collage kids who are actually mature enough to give a shit. Though, I suppose there is more to it than that," he mused, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully.

"What?" He thinks he knows something about me? Well, he doesn't. Ass.

He spoke precisely, reminding me of Mr. Hummel in Principle Figgins' office, which caught my attention well. "They guys at your school are douches. My cousin included. But you don't have to join them." He spoke matter-of-factly. "Do you want to know what you're missing by hiding?" he offered genuinely, taking a step forward.

I stared at him. "What?"

"Do I do it for you? Kiss me," he offered more enthusiastically, gesturing me closer.

That threw me off. "Are you out of your mind? I don't know you," I reminded him, because apparently he'd forgotten.

"C'mon, Karofsky, man up. Kiss me."

I started to walk away because he was freaking me out, but he stopped me with a hand on my arm, not grabbing me, just trying to make me wait. I looked down at his hand pointedly and back to his face. He pulled back but his hand went to his shirt and pulled it off, revealing his dark chest. The lights were on so I could see everything very well, which made me stare because there was something about him that made me not want to look away. I realized I was staring and blinked and said, "Sorry." Greg just grinned at me. That made me edgy because it looked like what he had been expecting. I somehow couldn't find the energy to be angry with him shirtless in front of me.

"Touch me," he offered. My heart picked up speed and I glanced up at his face, examining it for any sign of a joke. "It is important," he said again, no hint of mocking or joking. Still, I shook my head lightly, almost curious but totally out of my depth.

Greg sighed and reached for his shirt on the floor.

"Wait," I blurted, then drew my head back in surprise at myself. Greg grinned and I felt like smacking myself. 'Wait'? Seriously? But... my one chance to see if I was... I felt like I might hate myself if I tried, _again_, to sabotage my life by not finding out if I could do it, let alone if I liked it. I felt more relaxed just thinking about it, but jittery because I didn't know and wasn't sure what it would mean when I found out. Maybe I didn't like guys, and then the whole mess that I'd gotten myself into had been pointless. It was pointless anyway, though.

Greg stepped closer to me, but I didn't know what to do, so I just stood there. It was embarrassing, like with Alli before. Greg moved as close as he could without touching me, and I leaned back against the wall, trying to calm myself, but my heart wasn't listening and just continued to work overly hard for no reason really.

"What about—" I gestured upstairs awkwardly, referring to his boyfriend who had just left.

Greg shook his head. "He'd understand, don't worry, really. Besides, he's in college." He winked suggestively. Oh, like all college people cheated on their girlfriends and boyfriends. Maybe they did; I didn't know.

"Ha. Ha."

Greg tilted his head curiously and hmm'ed.

"What?" I asked, ready to be insulted.

Greg shrugged and said, "You looked kinda cute there for a second."

I gave him a shrewd look.

"No, really, I mean it. And don't worry about Z, he's in his room doing that girl."

I drew my head back in surprise. Greg looked at me funny.

"What? What did you think they were going to do?"

"Just shut up, okay?" I snapped; he made me feel stupid. I just hadn't thought about it much. Of course they were doing it, _I'd_ almost done it.

"I'm sorry," Greg apologized.

"Forget it," I sighed and stepped away from the wall, ready to just call it quits on this experiment. I wasn't feeling anything but annoyed.

"Wait," Greg said this time, stopping me from leaving the same way he had before.

I raised my eyebrow at him expectantly and stood there looking at him. With the warning of moving slowly, he put his face close enough to mine to kiss, but he didn't, just stood there, breathing in and out calmly and looking at my lips and glancing up to my eyes a couple of times. I thought he was going to kiss me, but he just stayed that way for a minute. I couldn't take my gaze away from his eyes, mostly just curious to know why he was doing this for me, why he'd offered in the first place. He was almost exactly as tall as I was. His eyes were brown. He was lean but not too skinny. His hair was dark and very short.

My brain caught up with me about what I was doing. I pushed away from the wall and past Greg. "This is stupid; what is this going to prove anyway?" I asked with a forced laugh and started up the steps.

"Dave," Greg said imploringly, but I didn't stop. "Kiss me; kiss me, you know you want to, and you knew from the second that you laid eyes on that kid that you wanted to kiss him too, tongue, groping, everything, hot and sweaty, moaning his name and all."

I stopped half-way up the steps, appalled. That was for about two seconds, then I was furious. I turned and walked back down the stairs slowly, never taking my eyes off of Greg. He didn't look scared but maybe a little cautious. I was giving him the look I had given Hummel when I'd asked him if he wanted a piece of the Fury. When I reached the bottom I stepped straight up to him and got in his face.

"Say that again, I dare you," I whispered in his face, staring him down and not moving a muscle.

"What's your problem? It's the truth, isn't it? Deal with it. It's okay, you know."

I pointed my finger into his chest and got the one inch closer to him that I could. "You don't know _anything_ about it. And I _don't_ want to kiss you, you—" I wanted to say 'freak' or 'homo' but I settled for "—jerk." which was lame but was okay.

Greg blinked at me and seemed to have not heard me. He brought his hand down and moved my hand from prodding him in the chest.

"He didn't want to kiss you, but I do. Just grow some balls and do it, Karofsky," he challenged.

I scoffed and just looked at him disbelievingly. "Why?" I asked, for curiosity's sake.

Greg shrugged and replied simply, "Because if you don't, you'll regret it."

"I regret a lot of things," I told him, as if that should make a difference.

He looked at me with an expression that seemed shameful almost. "Then you know it sucks."

That made sense enough that I backed off. I looked at the couch for a minute and considered my options. With one long glance at Greg, I walked that way slowly. I heard him behind me and tried to breathe normally because I'd finally decided that yes, oh yes, I did kind of want to try that just so I could be sure that, at least, I wasn't interested in kissing anyone, and maybe I just wouldn't for a while because maybe my calling was monk-hood or something. If it was this difficult just to kiss two different people in one night, who actually wanted to kiss me back, then what did that say about me?

I sat down slowly, trying to leave my assholish behavior out of the equation for a while. I tapped my fingers on the couch, realized I was doing it, and stopped myself. I glanced up quickly to catch a glimpse of Greg about to sit down next to me. He wasn't smiling anymore, which made me calmer actually. He sat in a more relaxed position than me, and I sat even straighter, if possible.

"Dave," Greg said lightly, just sort of a statement, like 'here I am.' I glanced over, thought for a moment, then nodded.

Greg moved up closer to my side, and I put my arm across the back of the couch to make it easier for him to get close to me. My stomach jumped with nerves.

He looked at me seriously for a second. "I've got a boyfriend, this is just to help you figure things out, okay? And you can stop me whenever, alright?" I nodded; I knew that and that was fine. Great, actually.

I leaned over a little awkwardly and he got close to me again. I felt his warm breath on my face. I leaned in a little farther and he kissed me, his lips on mine. It was weird. I'd forced myself to be repulsed by the idea so much, that I physically had to stop myself from pulling away. He did though, and looked me in the eyes.

"What if I were him?" Greg asked quietly.

"Who?"

"That guy you kissed. What if I was him?"

I almost laughed. "You look nothing like him."

I watched Greg get on his knees on the couch. He swung his bent leg over my lap and put himself right in front of me. I was ready to shove him off when he said, "What if he did this?"

I was struck by the image of it, of Kurt straddling my lap before I could stop myself. I swallowed. If Kurt would be as into me as Greg at the moment, I'd probably stop breathing.

I imagined that possibility in great detail, which Greg being there helped sort out a lot. It was hot, and it sent a shiver down my spine and made my heart speed and palms sweat. I could grab his ass from this position, Kurt's not Greg's, and _that_ thought made me hot all over, and I felt it everywhere. Desire, definitely, I wanted him to be right there. And I wanted him to say he forgave me for what I'd done to him and he knew why I'd done it. And he _got_ it. He knew how hard it was, and he still tried and he was brave, far braver than a lot of people I knew. And when he sang, I felt his honesty, and I was amazed at how he could do that, be so honest with people, open and willing to look for something good. He took a chance, he tried. He was so... unique.

So when Greg kissed me this time, and unlike kissing Alli, I gladly imagined kissing Kurt and holding him up with my arms at his sides, kissing me like he understood why I liked him. Our lips moved together, and his were warm. But Kurt would never do that because of my behavior toward him, and he probably shouldn't either. But Greg didn't mind, it seemed. And then I stopped imagining Greg as Kurt and just kissed him, running my hands up his back, his hand behind my neck, keeping me close to kiss. He sat down on my lap fully and that was fine because I could kiss him without reaching up.

I kissed him hungrily, not getting enough every time I went to end a kiss. I got lost in it. I felt calm and energized at the same time.

And then Greg pulled away and caught his breath. I wasn't even worried about breathing; I just stared at him, a little stunned. I swallowed. Greg wiped his mouth a little and moved off of me. I blinked a couple of times, slightly dazed. I cleared my throat.

"Was that..?" I said, unsure of his now flat expression. Had I really been that bad of a kisser?

"Was fine," he replied immediately. "Good," he amended and smiled a quick, half-smile at me. I wasn't convinced at all.

"Right," I said doubtfully, my head drawn back at the unexpected, non-verbal criticism.

I watched him get up and pull his shirt on over his head and run his hands through his hair to fix it. It was really messy; had I done that? I didn't remember doing that. My face flushed with embarrassment and I looked away to hide it. Embarrassment was embarrassing.

"Dave."

"Yep?" I replied flatly, not looking back at him.

Greg sighed. He walked back around the couch. When my eyes met his, my face was stony from trying to hide my thoughts. His expression was unreadable.

"If you.." Greg hesitated. "If you figure out what you're looking for… let me know," he said sincerely.

Huh? "Why?" I asked blankly. He laughed which made his face look good, but it only confused me.

"Just would you?" he asked again. I didn't reply. He smiled once and started to turn away while adjusting his shirt since it was a little askew. My eyes followed his movement and happened to glance down a little farther. From this angle I could see his profile and could see how much he was filling out his sweats at the moment. My eyes widened and flicked up to his face.

"Customary reaction. I'm still a guy, you know," Greg said with the hint of a laugh. "Good luck, Dave."

I didn't think his sentiment would help, but it was a friendly thing to say. Greg turned and walked back upstairs, opened the door, and was gone. I sat there for a while, just thinking. I sighed and laid back down on Az's couch. Maybe I'd just crash here for the night. Az wouldn't mind, wherever he was. I reached in my pocket for my phone and texted my Dad who replied back immediately with, "Call me."

I dialed the numbers and he picked up on the first ring. "David?" He sounded slightly worried.

"Yeah, Dad? What's up?"

I heard him sigh. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, of course. Why?" His worry baffled me. I'd only been gone a couple of hours on a Saturday night.

"Nothing," he replied heavily. "I was just worried."

"Everything's okay, Dad," I reassured him. I never had to do that really. He used to trust me. I wasn't smoking pot or anything. "Something happen?" I asked just in case.

"No," he replied. "Just had a feeling. You're sleeping at Azimio Adams'?"

"Yeah, that okay?"

"Of course, of course. Just be home for dinner tomorrow night, alright David?"

"Yeah, Dad."

"Okay, love you son. See you tomorrow."

"Bye, Dad."

I pocketed my phone and curled up on the couch, closed my eyes and fell asleep after an hour of mulling things over. It was only a kiss. Okay, a couple of kisses.

**.O.O.**

Alert or review, then check out my other three Glee stories. ;) Thanks a ton!


	6. The Article

A/n: Mentions of suicide in this chapter. It's short, but it's something that you'll like, I hope! :) How about "On My Way"? Best. Dave. Episode. Ever.

Thanks for reading!

**.O.O.**

My phone is buzzing next to me. I groan and turn over to put my face into the couch. It smells only of dust so I move again. My hand reaches down to pick it up where it's gotten stuffed between the cushions and I flip it open in front of my face, only after opening my eyes to see what it is. I have a missed call and a text. I read the text first.

**Where r u**

I texted Azimio back.

**Your basement.**

Odd thing to say, but it was true. I heard a door close loudly somewhere in the house and figured it was Z on the top floor where his room was. I was going to check who the call was from when my phone rings again. A number I know well but don't have saved comes up and I sigh with irritation. I answer but I don't know why; I guess I wasn't awake enough to stop myself.

"Hi," my only greeting.

"Hi Dave. How are you? Did you get my text last night? I never heard from you."

Her insistent voice annoys me. She's trying too hard again.

"Yeah, Mom, I got it. I'm busy this weekend. Practice," I say shortly. I hear my voice as monotone and its sad how much I don't care that I'm talking to her. I hear Azimio come down the stairs and watch him with an annoyed look on my face so that he'll know what's going on.

"Oh, well, next weekend then? Or during the week? You can take a couple of days off from school—"

I cut her off. "I don't think Dad would like that." I was right, he wouldn't, but I could probably convince him if I actually wanted to. But, I don't. I see Azimio nod sympathetically and hear him mutter "bitch" which makes me grin a little.

"But," I hear her protest and then grasp for something. "I don't really get to see you very often, Dave," she says in disappointment. It kind of hurts me inside but more because I'm not used to her wanting to see me, and I'm not sure I believe what she says. I'm not heartless, though. My tone lightens a little but still doesn't give much.

"I've got things I've got to do, Mom. I'm sorry." I glance over at Azimio and he's shaking his head like, _Don't let her do that to you_. I realize he's right and my tone gets impersonal again. "Look, Mom, I'm at a friend's house. I can't really talk." I leave that open for her to respond. I don't really want to say I'll return her call, so I don't.

She doesn't seem surprised when she replies, "Okay, Dave. I'll talk to you later. Good bye."

"Yeah, bye."

I end the call and slump back down into the couch, wanting to hide in it.

"Forget her, man. She doesn't give a shit," Azimio reminds me. Yeah, he's right. I nod and get up. "You leavin'?"

"Yeah. I told my Dad I'd be home early." Not _this_ early. But, I didn't want to worry him again… or run into Z's cousin. Hah, no, that wasn't happening; I'd kill myself first.

I suddenly remember something I should have asked sooner. I turn back and see Azimio staring at the floor. "How did things go with Hannah last night?"

He doesn't look up, but I see his forehead wrinkle a bit. I hadn't seen that look for a long time, not since his mom had been sick a few years ago. I turn back a little further, waiting for his response. "Yeah, it, uh, went good," Z says to the floor.

He didn't continue, which was odd since he always went on about girls. "Good," I reply, looking at him for a second before turning back and going up the stairs to the door. Z doesn't follow me out and he's still looking at the floor when I glance back while I'm closing the door behind me. The house is quiet and I see no sign of Greg, while there are a few people sleeping here or there. The house is pretty clean for there having been a party the night before. I spot a giant black bag of trash in the corner of the living room with paper napkins falling out of it. Who cleaned? I get out of there fast in case Greg is lurking around and I make it home just before noon.

"David?"

"Yeah, Dad, it's me," I yell through the office door. I'm surprised when it opens with a snap. I lean back and take in my Dad's worried expression. "Dad, what's wrong?"

He stares at me a second then lets out a ragged breath. He shakes his head and looks down, one hand on the door handle. "Nothing, David. I just had a bad feeling; I'm sorry." He runs his hand down his face and deliberately blinks his eyes like he's got something in them or something. He looked overworked. He lightens his tone and tries a smile that seems half-hearted. "How was the party?"

I try to smile back at him, but I'm distracted by his obvious stress. "Yeah, it was… uhm, good. I guess."

He looks me in the eye and asks point blank "Was there any drinking? Drugs?"

My head snaps back like he's hit me. I realize now that he's never asked me that kind of question before. He's never needed to; he knows I don't do that stuff. I shake my head. "No, Dad. Z's dad kind of bribed him to keep it dry." I sound hesitant. I don't think he's never trusted me before; it feels odd. After all, Mom is the liar in our family. "I'm going to go play Call of Duty," I say with a nod toward the stairs.

He nods too and smiles again, but his eyes stay downcast. He turns and moves to shut the door, and I blurt "I love you, Dad." He stops, surprise on his face. I grin a little, worried about him.

"I love you too, David. Don't put off your homework too long, hm?" he tacks on with a pointed look. I wince inwardly as I remember my report card that we avoided talking about.

I nod with as much dignity as I can muster. It kind of kills me to be a disappointment to this man. He is my father and thankfully not an asshole like my mother. I should feel lucky about that. I do. I turn away and hear the door click closed behind me. I take a deep breath and head upstairs.

**.O.O.**

I close the door after David leaves and keep my hand on it a while, staring at the hardwood floors I spent a weekend last month waxing. Its perfect shine mocks my attitude as my forehead wrinkles more and more with anxiety.

I sit down on my over-priced leather desk chair and open the window I'd minimized when I'd heard the front door open. I went back to the paragraph I'd been at and continued reading under the title "Local teen found dead in home, another victim of the nationwide bullying epidemic?" I shudder a little at the title again.

_Fender's parents couldn't be reached for comment. According to the county police chief, Fender's father found him hanging from a rafter in his bedroom closet. Paramedics were called to the scene, but Fender could not be resuscitated. He was pronounced dead at the scene._

_The principle of Fender's high school said only that Fender had not reported any incidents of bullying. Fender's teachers, however, frequently witnessed him having problems with other classmates. There were reportedly a few occasions of sexual harassment by other students._

It went on, but I can't stomach it and close the window.

**.O.O.**

A/n: Alerts, reviews are welcomed. Thank you! :)


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